I was so drowsy from the anaesthetic I couldn't help but laugh as the nurse explained that the tumour was malignant stage three oligodendroglioma.

Everything was so hazy, I didn't know what to do.

It was 3am but I rang Tahnee.

She answered right away.

"Oh my god," she exclaimed. "You're awake!"

It was Tuesday, two days after Tahnee had rushed me to hospital.

I'd slipped into a coma while docs ran tests then performed the emergency op. As soon as she was next to me, I felt better.

In bed recovering after my brain tumour operation.

Because my family lived in Perth, she'd had to sign the forms giving docs permission to operate.

"There was a 10 per cent chance the surgery would kill you," she choked, wiping away tears.

My stomach sank. She'd been under so much pressure but she'd made the right decision.

The surgery was risky but without it I would've died.

That morning, I was given more shocking news.

The tumour had been growing in my brain from anywhere between two to 10 years.

If Tahnee hadn't taken me to hospital on Sunday afternoon, I would've gone to sleep that night, suffered a brain aneurysm and never woken up.

It was hard to digest but I still had a big battle on my hands.

There was a chance the surgery could have killed me.

Docs had managed to remove 95 per cent of the tumour but to kill the rest I had to undergo six weeks of daily radiation, then 12 months of chemotherapy.

Since cancer didn't wait for anyone, I wouldn't even get a break over Christmas.

It was a long process but I was willing to do anything to get better.

And with Tahnee by my side, I knew I'd be okay.

Treatment was draining, not just physically but mentally as well.

Nausea racked my body and even when I wasn't in hospital I was exhausted.

I had chemo over five days followed by 23 days of recovery so, when December came, I was able to travel to Byron Bay with Tahnee and spend the Chrissy holidays with her family.

I couldn't believe how much my life had changed so quickly.

For three years, I'd had a ball performing for Australia in Carols in the Domain in Sydney and just two years earlier, I'd even released a cover of one of my favourite festive songs White Christmas. I couldn't do any of that now.

But I had a blast staying with Tahnee's family, reliving the magic of Santa Claus and Rudolph with three of her nieces.

When they got Santa photos taken, I jumped in with them, grinning giddily.

Santa photos with my nieces took my mind of chemotherapy.

"I'm the biggest kid," I joked as Santa chuckled.

With the lights sparkling on the tree and the lounge room floor covered in brightly-wrapped presents, I nearly forgot all about my cancer.

"Merry Christmas!" Tahnee beamed, as we watched the kids tear into their deliveries from Santa.

The holidays were just the ticket to help take my mind off chemo.

I never worried about dying – that was pointless.

I didn't have any control over what would happen but the unknown scared me.

I tried to push it to the back of my mind but sometimes it was hard to avoid those thoughts.